Let Someone Else DIY for a Change
This is my favorite kind of post. The kind where I get to tell you about a major improvement to My Crappy House that I didn’t have to do myself. Because who even DIYs a freaking driveway anyway? The answer is crazy people and pretentious show-offs. Admittedly, I do usually fall into the latter category (yeah, OK, the former too), and, you’re right, this is a DIY blog, but even I have my limits.
Besides, my steamroller was in the shop…
When I first moved into My Crappy House in 2011, my neighbors, both to my right and to my left, were drummers who liked to practice outdoors in their respective backyards. Seriously. What are the freaking odds? Eventually, it got too cold outside to play. Then, finally, mercifully, they both moved away. Ahh, peace…
But not for long.
“Hey. Fig tree. How you doin’?”
“Um… not so good, actually…”
Who does a little bit of yard work on their crappy house and then expects strangers on the internet to care about it? Well, obviously, I do because here I am!
My fig tree is pissed! Here it is, mid June, and there’s not a leaf in site. You may recall me bragging about how tough my fig tree is. That post is here if you want to read it (and why wouldn’t you?), but I basically said that my tree needs no coddling from me to survive the harshness of a New York winter because she’s one tough bitch. Turns out, she’s a spiteful one too. She’s been flipping me the middle branch all spring.
As far as I can tell, she’s not dead. She’s sleeping in. I do that too, but there comes a point where you have to wake the F up. Do your job, tree! If I slept through work, I’d get fired! OK, no I wouldn’t because I’m the boss, but still. Make my figs, you lazy ass tree!
Take My Trees. Please.
Did you know you can get landscaping done for free? Yup. There’s free labor out there. People can’t wait to come over and dig up your yard. As long as there’s something worth digging up. And as long as you let them take that something home with them…
What The Fig?
I have a big ass fig tree in my yard. I don’t know much about fig trees (I don’t even like figs), but people who do know about fig trees have seen mine and have told me it’s the biggest figging one they’ve seen in New York. They want to know my secret. How did my tree get so big and healthy in this climate? How does it produce so many figs? Here’s what I do…
I’ve heard that little old Italian men grow fig trees in the northeast and they’re small and fragile (the trees are – and maybe the little old men too) and they lovingly wrap them to protect them from the wind and cold of winter and then hope that they survive and then actually bear fruit in the spring.
My tree gets no blanket. No warm milk. No bedtime story. My tree is on its own. My tree is a bad ass. It scoffs at winter. It looks the cold square in the eye and gives it the middle branch. It thrives amidst adversity. In the winter, it looks like this:
Welcome to the Jungle
Not only is my house crappy, but my yard is extra crappy with a side of crap. Supersized. This past weekend, I planted a lawn. (Well, it remains to be seen if it will be an actual lawn, but I put down seed and I’m crossing my fingers.) I bought the lazy girl seed that’s specially coated to keep in extra moisture in case I forget (I will) to water.
While the baby lawn struggles to grow, I thought now would be a good time to catch you up on the story of my backyard from the beginning.